Foiled




“So, come here often?”

She’s unfazed by my mediocrity. Her boyfriend isn’t.

His fist comes swinging across like an eagle swooping towards its prey.

Thanks to Jack, I am unfazed by his audacity. How coincidental.

After first contact, I ungraciously swing like a madman, wishing I hit anything but the doorman.

Another moot plan. Thanks, Jack.

 

“So, come here often?”

The group of officers all laugh as one of them recognizes my defeated face.

I recognize none of them, but I do recognize an old friend. 

The grossly stained and decaying bench I’ll be sharing with other shining members of society.

Unable to reach for my identity with bound hands, the officer takes my wallet.

“I should have this memorized by now” he says as his hyenas erupt in cackling unison.

 

“So, come here often?”

The swastika-tattooed behemoth next to me asks and the laughter of his entourage follows.

This caged room suddenly shrinks, with me in the circle of stink-eyed brutes.

I’d like to file a formal complaint about my stay here at the sheriff’s office.

Neighboring tenants show signs of harassment and self-inflicted shame.

Maybe I can file a restraining order against the ogre on my way out since I’m here. Two birds.

 

“So, come here often?” 

The jury gives half genuine-half pity laughs to the gavel-handed authority.

I wish he had the perfectly-curled white wig that reached his elbows, like they did in movies.

That would make my imprisonment much more humorous. 

“Any regrets?” The only sentiment I had was ‘So, come here often?’

Nobody laughed when I said it.